


The Lion and The Dachshund

by cantfuckinbelievethis (orphan_account)



Series: Made with Pride [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Car Accident, Death, Vomit Mention, alternative title: roadkill, blood mention, canon typical slurs, ha, i don't know what this is, no actual violence though, not actually angsty tho, threat of violence, trevor and mickey aren't together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cantfuckinbelievethis
Summary: ‘Shit. I just…What do I do now? I killed someone.’‘You get up and get in the car,’ Mickey ordered. ‘We’re gonna ditch this body here and go clean up your car, got it?’





	The Lion and The Dachshund

**Author's Note:**

> The end line is really what I was aiming to write about but somehow this happened? I know not many people will like this but hah
> 
> Title explanation: I was looking up unlikely animal friends and... http://www.boredpanda.com/unusual-animal-friendships-interspecies/

Despite what people always assumed, Mickey wouldn’t call himself antisocial exactly. He was just picky about who he hung out with. Sure, he only really hung out with his siblings, but at least they weren’t fuckin’ stuck up pricks like most assholes he met. They were loud and annoying, but they weren’t too bad.  
  
    They thought that he was antisocial and a lone wolf because he hated going out to clubs and parties, but the truth was that he found it was usually better having a small group getting faded alone than being surrounded by handsy dickheads. He still liked having people around, though, but what Southside kid didn’t when you usually grew up in a full house? His alone time was definitely crucial since people did end up giving him a headache and making him exhausted, but being around other people wasn’t too shit depending on who they were.  
  
    From what TV and his dad told him, Mickey figured being gay meant the only dudes he would be fucking were prissy assholes. After a while, from getting some in the back alley of the clubs he went to sometimes, he realised they weren’t all like that, but that still didn’t mean he wanted to hang out with them. It was necessary sometimes, though, when he really needed to be fucked.  
  
    Like that night, he was leaning against the bar of a random club in Boystown, waiting to be approached so he could take them out back and finally be satisfied for a while. He hoped that one of the guys from the group eyeing him off would grow a fuckin’ pair and come up to him — the lights were making him a little dizzy and tired. He gave the guy in the middle — young, dark hair, great ass — an expectant look before rolling his eyes and looking down at his phone. He frowned as he noticed he had fifteen missed calls and a few texts.  
  
    Opening his texts, he saw a flurry of messages from Iggy:  
  
   _Mick, someone told Terry about you being in Boystown_  
  
_Get the fuck outta there now - he knows what club ur in_  
  
_I’m srs man he’s on his way!!_  
  
_Why the fuck aren’t u answering ur phone?_  
  
_Mickey ur gonna get urself killed_  
  
_Run douchebag!!!!!!!_  
  
    ‘Oh, _fuck_ ,’ Mickey gasped, immediately scanning the dance floor for his enraged father. When he saw no one, he decided to just get the fuck outta there.  
  
    Lights were flying around the room, music thumping as loudly as his heart in his ears, and bodies thrashed him from side to side as he shoved his way to the back door. Shoving it open, he flew out into the cold night, door swinging shut behind him and muting the thudding beat. He shot a look up and down the empty alley before sprinting out of it, feet splashing in the small puddles of rain left over from the storm this afternoon. He tried to keep his breathing quiet and avoided making anymore noise than he needed to. Despite the nightlife going on just a street away, every movement of Mickey’s felt like a thunder clap in the dead of night.  
  
    He rounded a dark corner into an even quieter street. He was closer to home now, but he figured from the times of Iggy’s texts, Terry would be closer to the club than here. As Mickey rounded another corner, starting to slow down now, he realised how wrong he was. Terry must’ve been slower in his old age, because he had only made it to the street Mickey had just entered.  
  
    ‘You _fucking faggot_!’ Terry thundered out and Mickey had stopped short.  
  
    He was about to turn back and run to a busier street when a car started coming down the road. He paused, thinking maybe if he could wave them down that’d be faster than running away. Before he could, though, the car was passing and Terry was bustling across the road, intent on getting to Mickey. The driver beeped, brakes screeching as they tried to come down from their quick speed, but they still hit Terry at almost full force. The old man hit the ground and Mickey watched in shock as the car ran him down before finally stopping a few feet away.  
  
    Mickey stumbled back a few steps, touching his hand to his forehead before turning around and puking over the sidewalk. He gasped and turned back, throat and eyes burning as he watched a guy emerged from the car, running over to Terry.  
  
    ‘Holy fuck, no!’ the driver cried out, running a hand through his dark, curly hair. ‘I didn’t mean to— He came out of nowhere— Is he dead? I can’t go to fucking jail.’ He squatted next to Terry’s body, reaching out a hand to probably check the pulse.  
  
    ‘Stop!’ Mickey shouted, rushing over and knocking his hand away.  
  
    The driver looked up at him with wet, brown eyes, seeming shocked to see Mickey. Maybe he didn’t even notice him at all before. ‘He…I have to check if he’s dead.’  
  
    ‘You fuckin’ hit him at forty miles an hour, man. He’s roadkill — Don’t get your fuckin’ DNA on him, idiot.’  
  
    ‘Shit. I just…What do I do now? I _killed_ someone.’  
  
    ‘You get up and get in the car,’ Mickey ordered. ‘We’re gonna ditch this body here and go clean up your car, got it?’  
  
    The guy shook his head, face scrunching up. ‘I can’t do that. He was someone. He has a fucking family, probably. Ugh, I bet you he’s someone’s father and I’ve just killed him.’  
  
    Mickey touched his shaking shoulder, not really knowing what else to do to get this guy to shut the fuck up and listen to him. ‘He was my father — and he was gonna fuckin’ kill me. You saved my life, man. Now let’s fuckin’ get movin’.’  
  


* * *

‘Why was your dad gonna kill you?’ the driver spoke quietly, following the quiet street down to where Mickey had directed him.  
  
    ‘I’m a fag,’ Mickey answered bluntly, knowing he could take this dude if he had a problem with it.  
  
    The guy cringed slightly. ‘Could you not use that word? Kinda bothers me.’  
  
    ‘Why? You one?’  
  
    The guy bit his lip before nodding and croaking out, ‘Yeah. I like guys.’  
  
    ‘Whatever,’ Mickey sniffed, before pointing out an abandoned car wash he knew that still managed to have water running. ‘Pull over up there.’  
  


* * *

‘You’re not expected anywhere, right?’ Mickey asked. ‘Needa make sure you have an alibi for this shit.’  
  
    ‘Alibi.’ The guy laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he scrubbed at the blood on the hood of the car. ‘No, I was coming home from the club. My friends are pretty drunk, though; I could probably convince them I was still there at that time.’  
  
    Mickey nodded, continuing to clean the blood from the tires. ‘Good.’  
  
    They worked in silence for a few more minutes, which Mickey was thankful for. He needed some time to even begin sorting through what was happening in his head — Terry was dead, he was helping the guy who hit him get away with it, and he was free now. His phone was still going off, clearly Iggy and now Mandy were terrified for him, but they could suffer for a while longer. He couldn’t tell them this over text. It was nice to know, though, that they still cared about him even though they found out he was gay.  
  
    ‘Were you at the clubs?’ the guy asked, looking up from his work on the hood.  
  
    Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah, was hopin’ to get some action tonight, but looks like that’s not gonna happen.’  
  
    The guy tapped his fingers against the brush he was using to scrape off the blood, a curious look on his face. ‘You don’t seem like the club type…more like you’d rather stay at home and get high with some friends.’  
  
    Mickey arched his eyebrows, a little annoyed at the guy for attempting to read him, and also a fuckload annoyed at how he was spot on, really. ‘You tryin’ to psychoanalyse me, there, Harry Styles?’  
  
    Despite the current situation, this managed to drag a chuckle out of the subdued man beside him. ‘Did you really just call me fucking _Harry Styles_?’  
  
    Mickey shrugged. ‘You both got curly brown hair, man. Not my fault you look similar.’  
  
    ‘Are boyband members your usual type or something?’ the guy teased. When Mickey merely flipped him off, the guy continued, ‘Just sayin’. You seem like the type to only go to those places to hook up. Do you socialise with anyone else who’s queer?’  
  
    Scrunching up his face, Mickey asked, ‘Why the fuck would I want to do that?’ He scrubbed harder at the tires of the car, throwing some water on it and watching the blood go down the drain. ‘Pointless.’  
  
    ‘Sometimes it’s nice to have somewhere to go to hang out with people like you, ya know?’ He shrugged. ‘You could come out with me and my friends some night. Now that we’re pretty much tied together by this.’  
  
    Giving him a flat look, Mickey answered, ‘Had just about enough of coming out, thanks very fuckin’ much.’  
  
    The guy snorted, but said nothing as they finally began to finish up. When Mickey decided the evidence was adequately washed away, they climbed into the car and the guy drove Mickey home. When he parked outside, Mickey immediately began to climb out, but the guy grabbed his arm.  
  
    ‘Don’t touch me,’ Mickey snapped, shoving his hand away.  
  
    Raising his hands in surrender, the guy asked, ‘Can I know your name? This is kinda a life-changing event, you know?’  
  
    Scratching the back of his neck, he figured the guy could at least have that since he did accidentally save his life and all. He finally grunted out, ‘Mickey.’  
  
    ‘I’m Trevor.’ He smiled awkwardly, clearly not knowing what else to say. However, as soon as Mickey had nodded and began to climb out again, he finally found his words and stopped Mickey again. ‘Look, all I was sayin’ before is…there’s not many places to hang out that aren’t clubs or parties when you’re queer, so if you want you can come hang out with us. If you don’t want to, that’s cool.’  
  
    ‘I don’t want to,’ Mickey responded flatly.  
  
    Trevor nodded. ‘That’s cool… Sorry you don’t feel comfortable enough with yourself because of your father and all that.’  
  
    Mickey groaned, pushing his head back into the seat’s headrest. ‘Oh, piss off. You really have a habit of assuming people’s feelings and issues and shit, you know that, you prick?’  
  
    Letting out a little laugh, Trevor nodded again. ‘Yeah, I’ve been told that. Still, usually I’m right, so… Still, wish there was a place for people like us that isn’t for hooking up purely, ya know?’  
  
    ‘Yeah,’ Mickey muttered as he finally climbed out of the car. ‘Me too.’  
  
    And that’s how, in one night, Mickey and Trevor managed to get away with manslaughter, and also plant the seeds of an idea that would soon bloom into their very own queer coffee shop.

**Author's Note:**

> When I'm actually seriously not back but I'm also somehow writing fics? Also I'm tempted to turn this into a series (including Ian x Mickey in pretty much the next fic I think)


End file.
